


A Gift from Another Life

by mindabbles



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-08-24 03:20:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8354881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mindabbles/pseuds/mindabbles
Summary: It's been a long time since Sirius had a Christmas worth remembering.It's been a long time since he was home.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Mustntgetmy, thank you a thousand times for doing a pinch hit, and so enthusiastically. I took some liberties and combined requests from two of your previous sign ups. I also noticed that you like angst, fluff, and smut, in combination. Here's a bit of all three as a thank you.

**Title:** A Gift from Another Life

 **Author/Artist:** [](http://mindabbles.livejournal.com/profile)[**mindabbles**](http://mindabbles.livejournal.com/)

 **Recipient:** [](http://mustntgetmy.livejournal.com/profile)[**mustntgetmy**](http://mustntgetmy.livejournal.com/)

 **Rating:** NC-17

 **Contents or warnings (highlight to view):** * flangst and a teeny bit of smut*

 **Word count:** 2100

 **Summary:** It's been a long time since Sirius had a Christmas worth remembering.It's been a long time since he was home.

 **Notes:** Mustntgetmy, thank you a thousand times for doing a pinch hit, and so enthusiastically. I took some liberties and combined requests from two of your previous sign ups. I also noticed that you like angst, fluff, and smut, in combination. Here's a bit of all three as a thank you.

 

 _Every journey starts with one step_ , Sirius thinks. "Fucking obvious," he mutters.

Philosophical platitudes aren't going to help him make his feet move up the damn path to Remus' door. He doesn't remember the path being this long. The warm glow from the kitchen window seems impossibly far away, in more way than one.

Snow crunches under his boots as he begins this epic journey to his past, to his future, to his – "Been spending too much time in a fucking cave," he says, by way of interrupting this voice in his head that's irritating the hell out of him.

"I'd say you have, if you're swearing at yourself."

"Oh," says Sirius.

Remus stands in the doorway. The warm light spills out into the darkness and the path is suddenly just a few steps.

"I didn't think you'd come," Remus says.

Sirius has to stop himself from saying, _of course you didn’t—you never think you'll get what you want_ , not only because he has to remember that out here, away from the cave, he can't vocalise every thought that comes into his head, but because it's terribly presumptuous to think that this, his bedraggled company, is indeed what Remus wanted.

"Your place is an improvement over a cave," he says.

There's a pause and Sirius doesn't breathe.

Remus chuckles and shakes his head. "Come in then, arse."

Still standing on the dark path, Sirius smiles and takes the final steps into the warmth and light of Remus' little house.

*

"Tea?" Remus asks.

There's a plate of biscuits and some cakes on the table. There are no lights, no tree, no garlands or candles. Five Christmas cards brighten the mantle a bit.

"You weren't joking when you said you didn't make a fuss about Christmas," Sirius says.

"Doesn't seem necessary. Tea?"

"Please," Sirius says. Remus steps into the kitchen and Sirius says, "You used to –" He stops himself again because it doesn't matter that Remus used to love Christmas. Sirius didn't used to talk to himself. Things change.

"Here's your tea," Remus says. He sits on the sofa and gestures that Sirius should do the same.

Sirius hesitates. His robe is none too clean.

"The sofa is as old as you are," Remus says. "I don't think your robe will do it any harm." He smiles kindly and Sirius remembers that smile. The lines at the corners of the eyes are a bit deeper, but some things don't change as much as others.

"I was worried about my robe," says Sirius, and takes a biscuit.

*

Remus doesn't decorate, but he does cook.

"Who were you expecting?" Sirius says, following Remus into the kitchen.

The tea is long gone and they've talked about Harry, Dumbledore, the Order, strategy and what's next. They've avoided making comparisons to the past, even as the past echoes in nearly every word. They haven't talked about what went wrong between them at the end. There's no need. It was said in the Shrieking Shack and Sirius will be forever grateful that he lived to see the look in Remus' eyes when he finally understood.

"Expecting?" Remus asks.

"There's enough food for all the Weasleys."

There's steak and kidney pie, roasted chicken and potatoes, and carrots on the cooker; bread and butter and a trifle are already on the table. Remus always could seem to take a bit of stale bread and cheese and somehow make a wonderful meal. Some of the little things that are the same, Sirius finds, he wraps around himself like a blanket.

"I did think you might come, and we're both skinny enough. No fuss and no gifts doesn't mean we can't eat."

"Speak for yourself," Sirius says. "I'm in the peak of health."

Remus frowns at him. "How are you, really? You don't seem – "

"I'm fine. Living rough a bit, but it's better than Azkaban," Sirius says. He searches within himself for the grin that used to stop Remus in his tracks. From the look that flickers across Remus' face, he just about finds it. "Here, I have something for you." He reaches into his pocket.

"Sirius," says Remus, in his best disapproving professor voice. "We said no gifts."

"Don't play the scolding teacher with me. It's only a bit of a thing I picked up," he says.

Sirius pulls the small, wooden box from his robe. It's ebony, intricately carved, with tiny crescent moons inlaid across the lid. He found it in a barn where he sometimes slept. The farmer's son took a shine to Padfoot and gave him some milk and let him sleep in the hay. He'd been there one full moon and spent the night as himself so he could watch the moon. It had been the first night he'd let himself think about Remus and how they used to be together, before it all went to hell. In the morning, the box had been sitting there as if someone had left it for him. He'd opened it to see if anyone had left something inside and when a bit of hay fell from his sleeve, it disappeared into the box.

"It's beautiful," Remus says, running his long fingers over the smooth surface of the lid.

Sirius watches Remus' hands. They aren't so different, either, and he can remember the feel of them on his skin.

"It's charmed. Anything you put inside seems to disappear, but it's still there. You can still feel it."

Remus steps forward and wraps his arms around Sirius. "A bit like you," Remus says quietly. "Thank you, Padfoot."

Remus' arms are deceptively strong and Sirius lets him hold him up. He presses his cheek to Remus' hair and breathes in his scent.

*

Sirius sits on Remus' bed. The duvet has been mended in several places, but it's soft and looks warm. Sirius hasn't slept in a real bed since he left here soon after that disastrous, exhilarating night in the Shrieking Shack. He wasn’t ready to leave when he did, not ready to be away from Remus so quickly. Whether Remus was ready for him to go or not, he never said.

His body feels warm and pliant from the hot bath that Remus offered, and he gratefully accepted, after dinner. He lies back on the bed. He can still feel Remus’ arms around him. The bed smells of him and Sirius' memories of being surrounded by this smell, in a soft warm bed, suddenly assail him—Remus touching him with his fingers and his mouth, their bodies connecting from head to toe. It's the first time he's felt anything like desire for years.

Sirius closes his eyes and lets the memories come. He stirs on the bed, feeling his bare skin slide against the duvet and the images that he never allowed himself keep coming—Remus' chest against his, against his back, Remus' cheek against his thigh. He lets his hand drift to his cock. It's hard and he remembers Remus' hand on him as he strokes.

"Are you...Oh."

Remus' voice cuts through the memories, but the breathless _Oh_ stirs something else, something more real in Sirius. He stills his hand and sits up.

“Don’t stop on my account,” says Remus.

Sirius looks up to see Remus leaning against the door jamb.

"Moony," Sirius gasps. He moves his hand again, with Remus' eyes on him.

"Hm," Remus murmurs, taking a step into the room. "It's good to see that some part of you isn't emaciated."

Sirius barks out a laugh and bites his lip. "What do you want me to do?"

"I was thinking about you last night," Remus says. "Remembering. Hoping, too."

Sirius leans back on one hand and continues to touch himself with the other. His muscles tense and his heart races faster. "Were you?"

"Yeah," says Remus. He clenches his fists at his sides and Sirius can see that he's hard, too. "I was remembering what it was like when we were younger, at first, how we couldn't keep our hands off each other."

Sirius smooths his thumb over the head of his cock and his hips jerk at the sharp sensation. Remus watches, his cheeks flushing pink.

"I remember that," Sirius says.

"And then later, what it was like to know that every night, no matter who tried to pull you, who fancied you, I got to go home with you, fuck you, be inside you, and know you were mine," Remus says. His hand drops to the front of his robe and he presses."I remember every detail, how it felt when you pushed inside me, your cock heavy on my tongue."

"Never was anyone else's, Moony. Even later, when – "

"Hush," Remus says. "Not now."

"Come here," Sirius says. "Take off your robe."

Remus smiles and Sirius' stomach flips over. "I'm a bit the worse for wear," he says as he opens his robe.

He is, but then so is Sirius, and everything Sirius loved most about him—his warm eyes and mischievous smile, his skillful hands, his soft mouth—are all right there. "You look the same to me," says Sirius.

"Liar." Remus laughs and sheds the rest of his clothes.

"Come here," Sirius says again, palming Remus' hip and drawing him to Sirius. He pulls Remus down into his lap.

"I can't believe we're here," Remus says, straddling Sirius' lap.

Sirius groans as his cock presses against Remus' body. Remus leans to kiss him and that soft, generous mouth closes on his. He yields to the force of the kiss and Remus' tongue curls around his. He runs his hands up Remus' back, pulling him closer, pressing their bodies together. He can't get close enough.

Remus works his hand in between them and wraps his fingers around Sirius' cock. It's been so long since anyone touched him, and the feel of a lover, his lover, is nothing like touching himself.

"I'm not going to last," Sirius gasps, rocking his hips in time to Remus' stroking.

"We have time," Remus says.

"Yeah," agrees Sirius.

They press their foreheads together, both grinning like idiots, because that's not something they are used to having anymore.

Sirius moves his hand to touch Remus, their knuckles bumping against each other. It's awkward and too quick, and perfect, and they both come, their cheeks pressed together and the night stretching out before them.

*

Sirius is exhausted. He should sleep, but he doesn't want to miss a minute of this night. _Sentimental fool_ , he thinks.

"Oh, shut up," he mutters to himself, turning to look at Remus.

Remus is awake and smiling at him. "I haven't said a word, so I assume you're chastising yourself for some reason."

"Oh, shut up, you," Sirius says. He curls against Remus and presses a kiss to his shoulder.

"I have something for you," says Remus, shifting just enough so he can reach his wand, but not so much that they are no longer touching. " _Accio_ Sirius' gift."

"Hang on," Sirius says. He props himself up on his elbow and slides his leg along Remus'. "I thought you said no gifts."

"Yes, well, you've already broken that rule. I have to keep up," says Remus. He's holding a small, dark blue, velvet bag. Remus hesitates and Sirius sits up. "I bought this for you a long time ago," Remus says quietly. "I got it on an Order mission during the summer and was saving it for your Christmas. I didn't always know why I kept it, but I suppose some part of me hoped I'd give it to you someday."

"Moony," Sirius says, because he can't say anything else. He takes the bag and shakes it open. A round, gold object, about the size of a watch falls into his palm. It has a beautiful silver face with runes of a deep blue at intervals around it. Four hands of different colours swing and sway dizzily as he moves it, gently twisting the dial. "It's a compass. It's beautiful."

He looks closely at the marks on the face and sees indications of north, south, east, and west. The arms are inscribed with the runes for _water, shelter, help_ , and _home_.  
  
"I thought it would help you find your way," Remus says. "If you were lost."

Sirius takes Remus' hand and laces their fingers together. The compass is warm in his other hand. It would have been useful then. It will still come in handy in the months to come. He looks down at it. The dial has rotated, orienting itself to north. The arms have swung into place and _shelter, help_ , and _home_ are all pointing at Remus.

"I can't remember when I felt less lost than I do now," says Sirius, gathering Remus into his arms.


End file.
